how could neil seriously think that andrew was using him for hate sex when his reaction in baltimore was so completely unlike him? andrew literally went back on his own promise to protect kevin by choking the goddamn guy himself, and it took three people just to pry him off. how can neil continue to think that andrew hates him when andrew agreed to everything he said, when andrew listened to him and carried the weight of his past without so much as batting an eye? how can neil possibly think that andrew wouldn’t want him to stay, when andrew would have burned the world to the ground if it meant finding him? how can neil possibly think that andrew wouldn’t want him there after asking him in book one “what would it take for you to stay?” followed by a “name it and it’s yours.” and neil, not nathaniel, tentatively asks if andrew would want him to stay because he’s unworthy of his support, of his keys, of his protection, of his home— and andrew, andrew, andrew — andrew who has a fear of heights, a fear of falling, a fear of the consequences of falling — falls headfirst into what can only possibly be described as love, a reason, an answer, a light, a someone to live for and wake up for every morning and know that his mere existence is enough, that his feelings will be returned because both their eyes echo with an understanding so deep, so vulnerable, it makes them weak in the knees. but that understanding also comes with a surreal amount of honesty and truth — “sunrise, abram, death” — and trust and comfort and just. the feeling that two broken people can feel a little less lonely because existing like this, in this moment, is enough. also,
Title: listen closely and the stars will sing Author: swansaloft Rating: Teen and Up Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Words: 15929 Summary: If tiny fourth grade Emma had gone in to see the fortune teller, and the woman had told her that when she was 27 years old, she would fall head over heels in love with Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer, she would have laughed herself right out of the tent.
The thing is, the woman would’ve been correct.
Don’t forget to feed the author and artist - leave a kudos and/or a comment for both fic AND art!
I would love to see Yuri and Otabek start off as a tentative friendship and slowly morph into romantic love because that would be so amazing to see for Yuri. So he can get comfortable with Otabek. THEY ARE SUCH A CUTE SHIP
THIS IS WHY I LIKE OTAYURI
i support Otayuri becuase i would love to see yuri slowly start to fall in love with otabek
There would be no need trying to convince this boy that sex was on the cards every night – a girl with a high sex drive would make the perfect match for a very active Namjoon. As you turned off the overhead light, room lit only by the dim glow of the bedside lamps, his erection would already be evident through the tenting of the sheets around his crotch. The sight of his shirtless torso framed by a halo of sheet would send your heart racing as you approached, lip tucked behind your teeth in anticipation as your eyes devoured the stunning creature laid out in front of you – one you found hard to believe was all yours. ‘I saw something new I’d love to try tonight, baby girl.,’ He’d offer, his arms opening to embrace you as you came to straddle his hips, sheets the only fabric separating you from contact. ‘You up for it?’
YOONGI: Despite his lack of enthusiasm at times, Yoongi would find it easy to relent – mostly in part due to you knowing all of the right buttons to push to get your way. After a long, hard day at work he’d be slumped in a burrito of covers next to you, body sprawled lazily on the bed. When your hands began roaming his chest, his soft groan of annoyance would be the only protest he would give. As it traveled south, fingers spidering against the fabric of his crotch, he’d let out an encompassing sigh of contentment, hips arching slightly at your touch. Like yourself, he’d begin to unravel, desperate for the release you were willing to offer him.
‘I’m only agreeing to this if you’re on top, Y/N.,’ He’d coo, eyes watching your nod carefully to ensure you’d heard. ‘And if you give me a blow job first.’
The humor this boy normally spits would come out as soon as he realized the effort it required to keep you sated – not a night would pass where he wouldn’t joke about how constantly horny you were. As you’d slip between the sheets next to him, his hands would find their way around your waist, pulling you tightly towards him as he began his teasing.
‘I’ve never met a girl as horny as you before, Y/N. I can barely keep up.,’ He’d muse as he studied your face, head tilting forward to peck a feisty kiss to your lips. ‘I guess I can’t really blame you when you have such a sexy boyfriend, though…’
SEOKJIN: Seokjin’s way around the situation when he wasn’t in the mood would be through murmuring sweet nothings into your ear, his soft nature calling for him to let you down in the most gentle way possible – a no disguised as a carefully constructed compliment. As he would pull you closer to him, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist to hug you closely into his chest before sleep, you wouldn’t be able to help but grind your ass back into him. He had a way with you, one that got you so hot it was hard to resist temptation when he offered it. ‘Not tonight, baby… I’m tired.,’ He’d argue meekly, a small hum escaping his lips as you shifted his hand towards your crotch. ‘Besides beautiful, I’m still recovering from the sex we had last night. An orgasm that good deserves a few days of reflection, don’t you think?’
JIMIN: This cherub could at first feel nervous – the pressure of having to please you every night would weigh heavily on him, as making you happy was an important part of his relationship with you. But as soon as he realized how easy it was to excite you, he’d have no trouble with the situation at hand. As you crawled next to him, lights off and curtains drawn, he’d be waiting patiently for you, arms open and inviting. His lips would meet yours to test the waters, sensing the shift in your mood.
‘How do you want me to start off tonight, beautiful?,’ He’d question, dulcet tones burning straight to your core. ‘Tell me what you want and I’ll be happy to oblige.’
TAEHYUNG: Much like Jhope, V would find humor in your insatiability, but in a different way. As you clambered into bed with him his childish side would peek out, eyes closing and showing you such a convincing fake slumber that even shaking him wouldn’t wake him. It wasn’t until you’d laid down, resigned to the fact that he’d fallen asleep before you, that he’d allow his fingers to creep around to your front, drawing you close to his now alert body as his palm ghosted against your breasts.
‘I’m good at teasing, right baby?,’ He’d chuckle, a kiss grazing your ear as a shiver ran down your spine. ‘As if I’d fall asleep without pleasing you first.’
JUNGKOOK: Jungkook would have the stamina needed to please you every night, sometimes more than once, and his eagerness would only be hindered by his own self-consciousness. Due to his lack of experience with relationships in general, this shy bean may query if it was natural to be as active as you both were. As you curled yourself next to him, body still warm and shaking from the pleasure he’d just given you, you’d notice his fingers halt their movement in your hair, head laying heavily against yours. ‘Do you ever wonder if other couples have as much sex as we do?,’ He ask curiously. ‘I mean… are we normal?’ As you shifted to take in his face, you’d giggle before pecking his lips.‘Does it matter if we aren’t?’ You’d reply smoothly before falling back against the toned muscles of his hard chest.
Can you write a GWash smut with a sir kink or one where he makes her call him general?
A/N: There are so many requests, oh my goodness. I swear I’m trying to get to all of them. Also, I got super into this…
Word Count: 1510
The way her hips swayed and the way she bent over his desk to clear it were George’s breaking point. He could only take so much before he forced her to leave him and the fact that she always curtsied with the same words, ‘goodnight, general’ drove him up the walls.
You wouldn’t expect it to be such a big deal but fuck the way she said it made it sound like she’d also like him to take her right there on the table and never stop.
He wasn’t wrong. After she left each night, she would touch herself in her tent, softly moaning his name with only an imagination to simulate his moans in her mind.
God, if only he could just pick up on her hints. She didn’t wear her sexiest dresses and slowly try to seduce him every night for nothing.
It was the same as every night, she dressed in her sexiest red dress, the neckline dropping low and the dress outlining all of her beautiful body.
George worked as she stood on the opposite side of the desk, slightly bent over as she neatly organised the desk that got messed up each day. Her hair fell in her eyes and she bit her lip as she concentrated on a few papers that were folded unevenly. She hadn’t been paying any attention to Washington when she became focused on the papers but he was most definitely focused on her. Her head snapped up when a low growl exerted from his throat, it was a dark and arousing sound. She crossed her legs, tightly pressing them together as she continued to stand, pretending not to hear the sound and ignore the fact that her juices were starting to run down her leg. She had run out of leggings to wear so she was going commando with only her thigh-high stockings under her dress.
She moved around the desk, apologising when she reached across him to retrieve the second volume of a book that belonged to the others.
George’s large hand grasped her bicep and he looked at her with lustful yet annoyed eyes.
“That will be enough,” he said. She gulped and nodded, putting away the book before curtseying to him, “Goodnight general,” she said in the most suggestive voice she could.
She exited the tent, shivering at the cold and scolding herself for not grabbing her cloak but she only trudged on, sure she would anger the commander if she went back. It would only end in a more stressed general and further wetness running from her folds to be soaked up in her stockings.
When she entered her tent, she lit a candle and immediately dropped onto her cot, laying back and pulling up her dress. Her fingers immediately found the space between her legs, running a few fingers up her thigh, feeling the slippery substance that George’s presence alone had caused.
Back in his own tent, Washington stood from his desk, stretching and sighing as he decided to finish his work the next morning before his meeting.
He went to take off his coat when he spotted the woman’s cloak laying on a chair.
He contemplated taking it until he decided to deliver it quickly and return to sleep. She would most likely be sleeping anyway so he could just drop it in her tent.
George grabbed the cloak and exited the tent, waving off the soldiers who started to follow him. Her tent wasn’t far.
When he came closer, his eyebrows furrowed at the quiet sounds coming from inside. He recognised them and slowly felt jealousy build in his chest, was she sleeping with one of the soldiers?
His anger got a hold of him and he peeked inside to find out who she was with only to see her lying down, her fingers slipping in and out of her cunt, her moist core practically glowing in the candlelight.
He was about to close the tent flaps to prevent himself from doing something he would regret when his name passed from her lips.
“George,” she moaned, pushing her fingers deeper into herself.
He smirked to himself and stepped inside, his smirk growing when she was too caught in her mind to notice him, her eyes tightly shut. He laid her cloak on a chair along with his jacket and waistcoat, leaving him in his trousers and undershirt.
She moaned his name once more and so he leant down by her ear whispering, “That’s general to you.”
Her eyes shot open and she sat up, her fingers quickly removing themselves, hurriedly trying to pull down her dress but before she could do anything, he caught her hand and watched her wet fingers shine with her moisture.
“Did I do this?” he asked her, slowly and erotically putting them in his mouth, sucking on her fingers, his tongue doing circles around them and pushing between them showing her exactly what he could do.
She sat helplessly before him, nodding as she was unable to form words.
He finished with her fingers, sliding them from his lips with a hum, “You taste delicious.”
Her mouth opened and a desperate moan fled from her as he spoke, his own fingers finding her soaked heat.
“George,” she moaned.
The commander immediately stopped and she was ripped from the bed and forced over his knee, a harsh slap hitting her bum before she could process what was happening.
“What did I say?” he asked.
She bit her lip to keep from moaning and she swallowed before saying, “I’m sorry.”
He spanked her again, harder though not hard enough to cause real pain, “Sorry what?”
She cried out as he shoved two of his long fingers into her, his mouth pressing kisses to her red ass, “I’m sorry, general!”
He smiled to himself and forced her upright again his hands finding her hips, “Good girl,” he said.
She bit her lip, enjoying herself very much.
The general then pushed her back on the cot, pulling up her dress so it was at her hips. Before he advanced, he gaped at her body, her breasts almost falling out of her dress, her legs spread for him. It was like he was living the wet dream he had been having for weeks.
George kissed up her damp thighs, her scent making his mouth water with desire.
Her soft moans became louder as his tongue discovered her slit, licking up and down her and in between her folds.
One of her hands pulled on the sheets below her, the other in her hair as he ate her like his favourite meal.
“Geo—” he immediately stopped at the sound of his name accidentally escaping her mouth once more.
Again, like before, she was forced over his knee, her ass becoming red again as she apologised, a slap meeting her skin with every word.
George pulled out his cock from his pants, letting it breathe though it still throbbed as he enjoyed the sight of her small pussy bent over him.
“What do you want me to do to you, kitten?” he whispered into her ear as he pulled her up so she was sitting on his lap with her back to him.
“Fuck me, general,” she whined, her hand tangling itself in his hair as she reached back to him.
He groaned into her ear sending vibrations down her body, her cunt quivering at the sound.
George forced her onto her knees on the ground holding her torso up against him as he worked his lower half under her dress, rubbing the head of his cock on her pussy, teasing her at her entrance.
“Please, general,” she cried, desperate to be full of the commander-in-chief.
George grunted and shoved himself into her, moaning out loudly at the tightness of her cunt.
She too cried out loudly at the size of his manhood, leaning back against him so her legs wouldn’t give out on her. Neither of them cared about the awakened soldiers outside, they only cared about Washington’s cock thrusting in and out of her vulva as they both fulfilled their sexual desires for one another.
“Shit,” he muttered into her ear as he nuzzled into her neck, placing kissed on her shoulder, collarbone, pulse, and jawbone.
The woman allowed herself to curse even if he did slap the top of her cunt harshly every time she did.
George’s thrusts became weaker for a moment and the lady’s walls tightened around him, prepared to cum all over him. When she got off and let herself simmer slightly, George pulled out of her his hand jumping to his cock to finish himself.
He inhaled sharply when her lips wrapped around him, sucking the seed from him.
She smirked up at him, swallowing every last bit of his salty sperm.
“Good girl,” he said, sitting back on the cot, pulling her with him.
“That was amazing, general,” she said as she sat atop him.
He smiled and wrapped an arm around her waist, “Call me George.”
A/N: I’m in dire need of some Niall smut. This is also for the anon who requested for smut with GIFs. Not sure if you’re the same person who requested this, but here ya go! Also, pretend the bed in the GIFs is a sleeping bag XD
The running to the waiting balcony, the hesitant look to at first, his parents, and now Allura. They would look at each other, hearts full of hope and apprehensiveness. A hand would be held tentatively over the door handle and then it would be thrown open.
Only to end in disappointment. It had been 18 years, his parent had perished, his brother lost for 18 years with no sign or hint or idea of where he could be. Most of the kingdom assumed he was dead, but held out hope for Shiro’s sake.
He worked through the pain and ruled as fairly as he could after his parent’s death. He had kept looking and kept tradition. He had married Allura and found love, but he still felt empty some nights and went to the place he had last seen his brother.
Shiro had been only five when his brother born, six when he was kidnapped.
And now…..he was doing it again.
The guard had rushed in, breathless, alarming them both until he stammered out enough of an explanation. Shiro had taken off because the guard had looked so alarmed, so convinced. Allura close behind him, they approached the door. His hand hovered over the handle and then he opened it, to see two people waiting. One with short black hair, similiar to his own (however streaked with white it was) and a taller one, brown. He recognized the taller one’s face, but ignored that for now, focusing on the one with black hair. They had turned to face the king and queen, and Shiro stared, heart out in the open.
He looked so much like their father, like him. Their mother too, soft features, indigo eyes.
The boy’s face crumpled as he approached, and they stood a foot apart, Shiro holding his breath as he reached out to gently place his hand on the boy’s cheek. He looked up, eyes wide, and Shiro broke.
Their knees gave out and they crumpled to the ground, clearing the space between them and Shiro held him as close as he could. Allura joined them after a moment, having grown up with the boys as long as Keith had been around.
“Keith.” He mumbled, pulling them closer. “Keith.”
“I remember you.” Keith whispered, and Shiro hugged them all closer, looking up. The brown-haired boy stood slightly awkwardly and was smiling, and Shiro held his hand out. He remembered where he had seen the face - wanted posters. It didn’t matter now, he had brought his brother back.
The boy took his hand and Shiro pulled him into the hug, waiting for him to relax into it, then laughed. A quiet, relieved sound, and Keith, his brother, his little, lost-but-now-found brother, laughed with him and they sat on the ground of the balcony, laughing and hugging.
Lt. Custer and Union Troops (1862) sit in front of a tent before the famous battle that would cost him his life. One of the most infamous figures of the American indian Wars in which the U.S. effectively performed genocide on first nation people, Custer was know to be one of the most ruthless of all soldiers.
Would hug you around your shoulders as you two sat on the window cell, staring into the white street and the falling snow, wrapped up in blankets and drinking hot chocolate snuggly.
“I’m glad I wasn’t the only one excited for this day, then.”
Would plan something romantic for the day as he saw the snow falling. In the evening would probably lead you to some high building’s roof so that you could enjoy the view from high up.
He would tease you excited, tbh. But in a good way, not crossing the line.
This puppy would be so surprised that it’s your first ever white Christmas that he would drag you outside and teach you all of the fun that can be done with snow; from building snowmen to making snow angels.
Would calmly invite you to eat at some side-tent so that you two could stay warm while enjoying the view.
Would sing you some classy Christmas songs as you enjoyed your day indoors.
*low-key hiding the fact that he was also excited af*
Title:Two Weeks Author:@shiftylinguini Rating: NC 17 Word Count: 22,000 Approx. Summary:
If Harry had to guess which out of he or his Auror Partner, and
tentative new friend, Draco Malfoy, would turn out to have Veela
ancestry, his answer would be: neither, because that is ridiculous.
Finding out the answer is actually him, and that his Veela heritage is
wreaking havoc on his ability to work, sleep, and above all be in the
same room as Malfoy, is a surprise to say the least. But this is fine.
Harry’s been through worse, and he can just sit this one out, regardless
of how much his body is screaming for the one person he doesn’t want to
ask for help. Can’t he? Content/Warning(s): Creature fic; Veela.
This story, god, it’s so gorgeous. The pining, Jesus!
let me start at the beginning. Harry is a Veela. :D And he’s come into
his Veela heritage because there’s someone in his life for whom he cares
very, very deeply, and seeing them in danger was trigger. It’s Draco. Harry knows it’s Draco. Ron
knows it’s Draco (who is awesome, by the way, Ron, I mean. Okay, so is
Draco I just now I was talking about Ron :D). But the thing is, they are
beginning to be friends, and well, Harry doesn’t want to ruin that, so
he does what he thinks it’s best; he locks himself in his home and
avoids Draco like the pest. Only not being around Draco is driving him
crazy – literally, he’s just not well, and Draco on the other hand, is
hurt because he also thought they were friends. Eventually Harry comes
Oh my god, it’s beautiful, I’m
telling you. The pining, the sheer want, it’s got some hilarious moment,
comfort and yummy sexy sex. :D
Any opinions on Iron Bull being a Ben-Hassrath? He reminds me a lot of Cullen, in that he's this traumatized dude who we're supposed to feel sorry for, but at the end of the day he was an ideological enforcer who killed people who were presumably just trying to live outside of the system. He says he's gotten over being freaked out by mages, but every single comment he makes about them, especially in Redcliffe, is dripping with disdain and hostility. I find him utterly un-charming tbh :/
I would say that the Iron Bull has made some tentative steps toward redemption but … well, they’re mostly off screen, and he’s a long way from done. I would also say that he’s seriously hampered in any effort in that direction by Inquisition’s bizarre allergy to character development.
Has the Iron Bull done terrible things? Absolutely.
His early work in Par Vollen saw Hissrad recognised by his superiors as a valuable asset who uncovered smuggling operations, discontented groups considering fleeing the Qun, and even a Tevinter spy ring.
Among the Ben-Hassrath, he earned a reputation as an effective hunter, ruthlessly tracking down Tal-Vashoth deserters.
– World of Thedas II
He’s been in Seheron for ten years trying to make everything work, telling himself that he’s the tool you made him to be, doing the job he was meant to do. He hunted down and killed his old commander. He killed civilians working for the rebels. There are times I’m grateful for those Tevinter mages coming in to attack. At least Hissrad doesn’t have to argue with himself after he kills them.
– Gatt on Hissrad, World of Thedas II
Terrible things. And Gatt’s remark that he ‘argues with himself’ indicates that he had some notion that they were terrible: the Iron Bull is a thinker, and because he is a thinker he can’t help but notice that people flee the Qun, and fight the Qun, because it isn’t working for them.
The thing is, I wouldn’t necessarily damn him for that. It’s a starting point. Lots of the companion characters have have darkness in their past: Zevran, Leliana, Sten, Fenris, Velanna, Blackwall – and so on. ‘We’re here because, honestly, no one else would have us’ is a pretty standard entry point for a Dragon Age companion. It’s where they go next that matters.
I wouldn’t be damning Cullen if my Inquisitor had met him on the road to Redcliffe, desperately trying to get surviving Kirkwall mages to the safety of the castle.
The thing about Cullen is that he functionally remains exactly as he was: a commander of Andrastian troops, an enforcer of orthodox Chantry beliefs, and a bigot of the highest order. If you stop taking lyrium, then technically you’re no longer a Templar. But if you keep forcing Templar ideology on other people you don’t get to claim you’ve reformed.
The Iron Bull isn’t quite that bad, but … well .. Okay. Here’s the thing.
In terms of character outlines, Sten and Bull are virtually identical. They are dedicated Qunari who have found themselves living outside the Qun due to unusual circumstances. They are thinkers and questioners, with a vested interest in discovering the why of things, and a tendency toward unorthodox behaviour that their bosses are mostly able to turn to the advantage of the Qun – but which is nevertheless awkward for them in a lot of ways. They differ in the details of their personalities, sure, but in terms of the role they play in the party they’re about the same.
But when you meet Sten, he pretty much just got here. He showed up, promptly lost all his comrades, then lost his sword, then freaked out and murdered some people and got locked in a cage to either starve to death or get eaten by darkspawn. He doesn’t understand anything and he hates almost everything. Fuck Ferelden, thinks Sten. It is full of dog shit and bad things. And, okay, cookies. But everything else is 100% awful.
(My Warden is a Brosca, so most of their conversations went ‘Explain this thing to me.’ ‘Sure. Right after I get one of them to explain it to me.’)
Over the course of the game, through quests and conversations with the Warden, through party banter and his personal quest to find his sword, Sten finds out some uncomfortable things: he finds out that the ‘bas’ are people, and he comes to value some of them as friends; he finds that his travels with the Warden and their struggle against the Blight have given his life meaning when the Qun said he was nothing; he finds that the solutions to some problems only exist outside the Qun.
For Sten, that’s huge. He leaves at the end of the game distinctly disquieted at the thought that he may one day cross swords with his friends when his people arrive in force to conquer and convert. He hasn’t walked away from the Qun or abandoned all its prejudices, no, but he’s a thinking man and he clearly has much to think on. Now that he is the Arishok, rather than Sten, there’s an opportunity for something to come of all this thought. Will it? I don’t know; I don’t work for Bioware. :) But this was good and interesting character development. A chance for a man to reshape the Qun, as ‘Divine Victoria’, whomever she may be, can reshape the Chantry.
And well … the Iron Bull did all that too. With … the Chargers. His relationship with the Chargers is important and redemptive, and mirrors the relationship Sten had with the Origins party. They are an eclectic and fiercely multicultural group. Krem says firmly that the Chargers don’t care ‘who you light a candle for’ – putting them on par with the Wardens for religious tolerance. They are valuable as individuals: you couldn’t simply swap one of them out for another person with the same skillset and expect things to be as they were. They’ve clearly been shielding Dalish from Chantry attention, and that really is a big and important step for someone from the Qun.
But that’s … as far as it goes. Bull starts the story at approximately the point where Sten leaves it. Early on, before you even leave Haven, you can have a conversation with him about his ambivalence regarding a Qunari invasion: it’s everything he’s been taught to want … except it would destroy all his friends’ lives.
It’s worth pointing out that, though he regards his reports to the Ben-Hassrath as his lifeline back to the Qun, every letter he writes is a betrayal of his Chargers. He is sending information, ultimately to help them win the war. They’d definitely kill Dalish. They might well kill the others, or break their minds. At best, they’d force them into a role, whether they wanted it or not.
When the moment comes, it isn’t the Iron Bull who chooses to leave the Qun or stay, it’s the Inquisitor. Further, leaving the Qun or staying with it are really the only choices that matter: that determines his fate in Trespasser. Now, leaving the Qun is huge. It means never going home again; never seeing the friends he left behind there again. It’s not something I would expect him to do without support. But it’s not a choice that he gets to make at all. He’s robbed of character development, of a moment where he decides for himself what matters most to him.
(To extend that further, I wish leaving or staying with the Qun were not such a stark choice. I think it highly likely that there are groups in Rivain, for example, that would call themselves Qunari, but would be considered Tal-Vashoth – or simply Vashoth – by the leadership back in Par Vollen because they’ve jettisoned the bits of the Qun that don’t work for them. I think it should be possible for a person to follow the Qun in spirit without bowing to the theocracy. But that option isn’t even on the table.)
And yes: you will still see him making derogatory remarks about mages and spirits, and giving disapproval points for engaging in actions that fall outside the Qun. He abso-fucking-lutely told my Dalish mage that the Dalish exile unwanted mages as though she wouldn’t know her own culture, and the game gave her no opportunity to contradict him.
I think the thing to remember here is … it’s not just the Iron Bull. It’s everyone. I’m still getting disapproval points from Cassandra for being polite to the Avvar about their religion in The Jaws of Hakkon, because despite appearing in two games and getting her own film she hasn’t worked out that religious tolerance is a good thing. Vivienne is never confronted with her level of privilege. Cullen is never required to atone for his brutality toward mages. There’s that one conversation you can have with Dorian about slavery that just … never seems to come up again.
I get the impression that Bioware gives people these really awful views on things as … flavour, and then expects you to just accept them because … people are flawed? Or something. They seem committed to not addressing them. It’s not even that they don’t have the characters change; they also don’t allow the protagonist character to object and to remember the objection, so it’s something that causes genuine conflict between the characters. My Inquisitor has a pretty high approval rating with the Iron Bull right now, and apparently neither of them remembers the talk about Dalish mages.
So I respect the extent to which the Iron Bull has moved away from the Qun and changed his behaviour, but fundamentally all the interesting stuff with him has happened in his backstory. In the game, he’s largely stagnant. But he’s hardly alone in that.
Sebastian always helps getting Ciel into his clothes as well as putting on all of his delicate accessories. Sometimes, Ciel, being the sweet little prince he is, would ask Sebastian to let him place the king’s accessory on him, which Sebastian always comply. Except, Ciel is very shy and gets nervous easily so every time he tries putting Sebastian’s decoration on, his hands would tremble a little because he wants to make it perfect. Sebastian, sensing the boy’s tentative actions, would smile, lean down and hold onto Ciel’s hand to guide him to place the accessory onto his head. Sebastian would then thank Ciel for helping him dress and Ciel would feel so proud of himself and wear a big big cute smile on his face.